I won’t even bother to apologise for the blatancy of the title of this post. I truly do hate being pregnant, and I have hated it for pretty much the entirety. I’ve been reluctant to post my opinion on this, as I feel it could be a bit of a sensitive subject for some, but I hope anyone reading can take it with a pinch of salt. I’ve seen one too many a comment alluding to those complaining about pregnancy and how it can be insensitive to those who cannot have children of their own, or to those who have experienced miscarriages, and I don’t want to overstep boundaries here, but my inability to enjoy my pregnancy does not mean I’m any less grateful for the life it will deliver at the end. I’m extremely thankful to be pregnant and what it will mean for my life, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it, and I should, as should everyone else, be aloud to voice that without judgement.
I have had an easy pregnancy, I’m under no false allusion here. I didn’t hate the time I was pregnant because of my morning sickness, or my tiredness, or my cravings. I didn’t hate the time because of swollen feet, which I couldn’t see by the end anyway, or my bad skin and greasy hair. The symptoms I could deal with, and I’d happily do those all over again. It was the inability to feel like myself for the past four months that has really got to me. My third trimester has been nothing short of an absolute nightmare, if only in the mental sense, rather than the physical.
I’ve spent the entire time counting down the days until it was over. And then feeling like I how I felt wasn’t right because I should love pregnancy and the ‘gift of life’, and I was wrong for wanting it to all be over. And then counting down the days again because I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. It’s something that I don’t think I can really explain, and you probably wouldn’t understand if you hadn’t been in the same situation. I went from being extremely active, social and driven, to what I can only describe as a lazy blob. A bit brutal, but it’s the truth.
I couldn’t embrace the pregnancy body, no matter how hard I tried. I don’t know wether or not this comes down to the fact that my pregnancy was a surprise, and so I hadn’t factored in the way my body would change and hadn’t came to terms with it before it happened, or wether it was because it all happened so quickly for me. I went from not showing at all at 26 weeks, to gaining a stone per month for the next 3. I’d generally never been over 8 stone, yet suddenly I was pushing 11 and it wasn’t something I was prepared for. The bump weight I could cope with, that was obviously all baby, that I could get my head around, having chunky thighs and and thicker arms though, those were things I just didn’t want to accept. I felt like I couldn’t complain to anyone about the weight gain without them rolling their eyes – quite rightly – I’d probably do the same if I was in their position. It’s not rational to be upset about having to get heavier whilst growing a person inside of you, and no-one is giving out sympathy for that, but then again, nothing about pregnancy thoughts are rational, and it’s hard trying to accept something that is completely necessary, but that makes you feel so uncomfortable. With the weight gain, came no clothes, and overall my self-esteem seemed shot by the end. It’s odd to think clothes could make such a big difference to the way I felt about myself, but they really did. It’s materialistic, but new clothes, or knowing you look good in an outfit can really change how you feel when you leave the house. At this point, I don’t even want to leave the house. I don’t bother. I have only two shirts, two jumpers, two ‘nice’ going out tops, and two t-shirts that I can actually fit into, yet I’m still refusing to buy maternity clothes. It might have been my own fault for not buying new clothes, but I didn’t see the point, it was such a short period of time and I didn’t want to waste money that I didn’t have to, now looking back, it might have made the time slightly better, and so would have been worth it, but you don’t think like that when your pregnant. Also, I think a small part of my mind thought that by buying new clothes I was giving into the weight gain – I wanted to be one of the one’s who bounced back straight away, easier said than done, but I felt that buying new clothes I was giving myself an excuse not to fit into my old ones.
I can’t believe I’ve already managed to write upwards of 600 words complaining about my lack of clothes to wear. Please do try and read between the lines here – it’s not about gaining weight, or not being able to spend my life away on ASOS anymore, it’s down to having no confidence whatsoever when you go out in public, and choosing to sit in rather than actually be social, for fear of having to see people whilst you feel as bad as you do.
I think a lot of why I hated pregnancy came down to how inactive I became as well. Anyone who has followed this blog will know that for my first 6 months, I was training daily, and training fairly hard. I’ve always had some sort of fitness goals going on in the back of my head – and plastered all over my walls for that matter – and I think I’ve always loved the goals more than the actual training. I didn’t know I was pregnant, and so continued as I would have normally, but then when I found out, I literally went from 10 to 0 in all of one hot minute. I didn’t phase out my exercise, I just stopped, and I think that had more of an effect than I could have imagined. Wether this comes down to the endorphins and the hormonal changes, or the lack of structure, or just the sudden feelings of lethargy and laziness, stopping exercise was one of the worst parts of the latter stages of pregnancy. I missed the gym. I missed setting ridiculous goals I couldn’t meet. I missed writing plan after plan that I wouldn’t bother sticking to after the first three days. I missed just being the fit one. Now I was just the pregnant one who couldn’t pick up an empty box without being told to put it down and not strain myself. If there’s one thing I could change about my pregnancy now, it would be to keeping up my fitness to some extent until the very end – modified sure, swimming or yoga or something like that that I would normally not touch with a barge pole, but anything that could make me feel more like myself when everything else was changing.
Prior to pregnancy – I also didn’t watch telly. Not often anyway. I’d watch Geordie Shore with Jordan when it was on, and that was it – I didn’t have time to watch telly, and it wasn’t something that would be high on my to-do list if I did have spare time. Now it’s a completely different story. I waste my nights away watching crap reality TV that I don’t need or want to be watching, and I don’t think twice about doing so. TV is the devil, and I thoroughly stand by that. I can’t help but feel so lazy and unproductive after a few hours of Netflix, but the pregnancy excuse rhymes true and no one even questions it. So essentially, I hate pregnancy because it’s made me fat, ugly, unfit and lazy, if I was to sum up this post in one sentence.
Every single point I’ve made here can be met with a ‘Your pregnant, it’s allowed/expected/needed/!’ type response – and I can guarantee I’ll still receive them in response to this post. It probably was all necessary yes, but it doesn’t mean I enjoyed it, and I hate the notion in society today that pregnancy has to be a gift and has to be enjoyed. I certainly didn’t thrive when pregnant, in fact, I hated every minute, although I’m positive I’d do it all over again for the sake of having a child. Pregnancy is not a gift – the life at the end of it is, and you should be allowed to complain about the time without being judged for being ungrateful or undeserving. I just wish I’d realised that sooner.